| Subject: The Anguish of Angels 3 |
Author:
Rox
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Date Posted: 22:34:49 01/04/02 Fri
In reply to:
Rox
's message, "The Anguish of Angels (Sequel to Shadow of Simone)" on 22:01:11 01/02/02 Wed
* * *
Nikita used caution as she approached Michael’s house. His bike wasn’t parked on the curb, but she thought it was possible that it was parked inside the detached garage.
It was a frosty, overcast winter morning. Nikita made her way as casually as possible down the sidewalk in front of Michael’s house. The neighborhood seemed relatively deserted, most people probably already gone to work. As quietly as she could, she traversed the front porch and peered into the front window. She could see very little in the dim light, but there seemed to be no one home.
She tried the door, and again, as on her last visit, she found it unlocked. “Damn it Michael! How many lectures did you give me on security?” Nikita muttered, pushing it open and drawing her weapon.
“Michael?” Nikita stuck her head inside first. When she got no answer, she stepped inside and closed the door.
The living room was a mess. Paper and photographs littered the floor, and on the far side of the room, it looked like someone had spilled something red down the white wall. Nikita went closer to inspect it, worried it might be blood. Her boots crushed on broken glass as she got nearer, and she realized it was the remains of a wine glass--the stem remained intact.
Either Michael had tossed his glass full of wine at the wall, or there had been some kind of struggle in the room. She continued the search into the dining room and kitchen, her gun raised and ready, but found them empty and undisturbed.
“Michael, Michael, where are you?” Nikita said softly under her breath. Slowly, she crept up the stairs, searching first the bedrooms then the bath, all to no avail. Either Michael had been there and gone, or he had been taken.
She went back outside, to search for his bike. If Michael had been kidnapped, it wasn’t likely his captors would take his motorcycle as well.
When she found the garage empty, Nikita’s heart began to race. Had he been in some kind of traffic accident on the way in to work? Puzzled and a little frightened, Nikita pulled out her cell phone and called back to Section.
“Birkoff?”
“Hel--” Birkoff’s voice was cut short as if someone had snatched the receiver from his hand..
“Michael?” It was Operations and he was furious.
“No sir. It’s Nikita.”
“Now where the hell are you calling from! Everyone is supposed to be on close quarters standby! That was an order--not a polite suggestion!”
“I understand that--but something’s happened to Michael. I’m at his house and it looks like it’s been ransacked.” Nikita lied, knowing that before anyone from Section could arrive, it would look that way. She would see to it personally.
“What was he doing away from Section in the first place?” Operations shouted.
“I don’t know--but--”
“Never mind! Get back here. We have a mission to perform. I’ll just have to lead it myself!”
“But what about Michael?” Nikita heard the hard click as Operations ended the conversation at his end.
With an irritated sigh, Nikita folded her cell phone, stuffed it into the pocket of her overcoat and returned to the house to make the appropriate adjustments to back up her story.
* * *
Michael sat in the quiet chapel and stared at the candle burning for Simone. He hadn’t been here since her funeral, over four years ago now. They had been married here, at Simone’s insistence, and Etienne had been both christened and buried here.
Michael’s eyes moved to a woman genuflecting respectfully at the altar, before taking her seat. He looked at the figure on the cross hanging over the altar and wondered why, with all the pain in her life, Simone had still insisted there was a God that cared. So where was He?
Leaning back against the hard back of the pew, Michael stared at the high cathedral ceiling, searching it for some sign, something tangible, some proof! But there was no thundering voice or burning bush.
He used to believe. When he was a child, Michael went to church with his mother and siblings. Then he grew up and discovered that good rarely triumphed, and that bad usually did. It made no sense to believe in an all-powerful God who seemed to be so powerless.
Michael turned and looked behind himself when he felt a hand press against the top of his shoulder. It was an elderly priest dressed in the traditional robes and sash, a crucifix around his neck.
“You look as if you need a friend.” The man said kindly.
Michael shook his head and quickly got to his feet. “No. I was just going.” As he started to push past the man, he heard him say, “You’re Michael, aren’t you?”
Michael froze in place, then slowly turned around.
“Who told you that?” Michael asked.
“You’re Simone’s husband. She told me a lot about you.”
Michael stared at the man stonily; the priest returned it with a kindly smile and gestured to the pew. “Have a seat, I promise I won’t try and convert you!”
Michael started to leave anyway, then heard, “Please. I would like to fulfill a promise I made to Simone.”
Michael closed his eyes, then slowly turned back around.
“Please?” The priest indicated for Michael to take seat next to him.
Michael sat, but wouldn’t look at the priest. He fixed his eyes on the back of the pew in front of them and hoped the man came to the point quickly.
“I don’t know exactly how to begin--but no matter. It’s been several years since I’ve seen Simone, but I’ve never forgotten her. Her confessions were heartrending, to say the least.”
Michael’s face blanched, as he turned to face the priest.
“What did she tell you?”
“Enough.” The priest replied simply. “Enough to know she worried constantly about you and your need for forgiveness.”
Michael got to his feet in a rush, but the priest blocked his exit.
“Wait. Please, let me finish.”
Michael eased back down.
“I’ll make this short, Michael. All you need to do is to ask for forgiveness. It’s that simple.”
“Simple?” Michael smiled coldly. “I’ve broken every
commandment and then some.”
“And so have I. And so has she--” he pointed to the woman kneeling at the front of the church. “And so did King David.”
“There is no God!” Michael said, finally having enough of the conversation.
“Ah, but there is, “ the priest said with a faint smile. “Simone knew that, and knew He was her only hope--and yours too.”
“Are you finished?” Michael said his voice dangerously soft.
“Yes. I am actually.” He smiled sadly. “You’re too full of anger to understand God right now, but one day, you will and I will have made good on my promise to Simone. She loved you, Michael, and so does God. And love, is what everything is all about.” He patted Michael on the shoulder, stood, and left the way he came.
* * *
“What’s this about you leading this next mission?” Madeline snapped as she entered Operation’s office.
“We can’t find Michael.” Operations frowned but never lifted his eyes from the computer screen on his desk.
“You haven’t led a team in over eight years!”
“You think I’ve forgotten how?” Operations asked sarcastically.
“I think you are too emotionally involved over the subject of this mission to make the decisions necessary to make it a success!” Madeline planted her hands on his desk and leaned into his face.
Operations finally looked at her with an amused expression on his face. “Did I ever tell you how beautiful you are when you’re angry?”
Madeline backed off in disgust and folded her arms. “This is not a game! And I am NOT amused!”
Ops wiped the smile off his face. “The situation is this: Michael can’t be found--no one else is as familiar with the material or the profile as he was except for myself, and there is no time to get anyone else up to mission standards in the time we have left! You think I can’t handle it?”
Madeline turned her back to him. If she told him the truth, that he couldn’t handle it, it would only kick him into macho-first gear to prove to her, he could. She ignored his question and issued one of her own.
“Who do you have as back up?” She asked, turning towards him again.
“It’s not necessary to have a back up. It’s a simple kidnapping.” He returned his attention to the data streaming across his computer console.
Fuming at his answer, she asked something else, “Does any one have a clue as to what happened to Michael?”
“Nikita said his house was ransacked. When I get back, I’ll worry about it. Right now, I don’t have the time. This wouldn’t have happened anyway, if he had obeyed orders and stayed in Section!”
Madeline turned and left, knowing his mind was made up and wouldn’t change. She’d have to do the best she could to protect him, without him being aware of it.
“Nikita! I need to see you in my office.” Madeline said as she passed her in the hallway.
“Now?” Nikita stopped in her tracks.
“Now!” Madeline retorted, not breaking stride.
Nikita turned and caught up with Madeline as they reached her office.
“Sit!” Madeline ordered, pointing to the couch. Nikita reluctantly obeyed.
“Is this about Michael?” Nikita asked, half afraid it was, and half afraid it wasn’t.
“Have you heard from him?”
“No. I was hoping you had.” Nikita sighed and dropped her head back against the couch in disappointment.
“Yes and no. I need you to do two things for me.”
Nikita lifted her head to give her full attention. “What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to get with Birkoff and Walter and start a search for Michael. His disappearance is too pat--I don’t like it. You have the next twenty-four hours. If you can’t find him in that time, then I want you to become very ill--so ill you cannot go on the mission with Operations. Then once he’s left, you are to follow him and back him up.”
“Of course.” Nikita said, getting to her feet. The two women looked at each other briefly with a current of understanding passing between them, before Nikita gave a nod and left.
Nikita and Walter returned to Michael’s house to look for clues. As she had described to Operations, she had done her best to make the house look like someone was searching for something.
“I wonder what they were looking for?” Walter squatted on his haunches to inspect the bottom of a closet.
Nikita longed to tell him the truth, but didn’t want to involve him in anything that might get him killed later. “I don’t know.” She said simply, looking around for some clue she might have missed during her earlier visit. She was more sure than ever that Michael hadn’t been abducted, but couldn’t think of any reason Michael would be absent. She’d checked the hospitals for the random chance he’d been in an accident of some sort, but found nothing. The most disturbing thing was the fact that while his bike was gone, his cell phone was in his house, and he never went anywhere without it. Nothing made any sense, but all the signs seemed to point to a willful absence on Michael’s part. But why? Why?
“Sugar, I hate to say it, but I’ve come up empty. Too bad we don’t have surveillance on Michael’s house like we did yours.”
“What?!” Nikita spun in her tracks.
“Ooops.” Walter said with chagrin.
“What surveillance? I told Section I didn’t want cameras in my apartment!” Nikita was furious.
“Uhmm, well, it seems Michael thought it would be safer to have the cameras back after we lost the Directory. He was concerned for your safety.”
“Who’s going to keep me safe from Section!” She snapped. “Never mind! Damn it! When I find Michael, I’m going to kill him!”
Walter grimaced comically, “Please do it before he kills me for lettin’ the cat out of the bag.”
* * *
“Well?” Madeline asked, her face studiously hopeful.
“Nothing!” Nikita paced back and forth in front of Madeline’s desk. “I have no idea where Michael is. Something’s terribly wrong!”
Madeline frowned. “Well, Operations has set the mission for 1600 this afternoon. Time for Plan B--here, take these.” She opened her hand to reveal two white tablets.
“What are they?” Nikita asked, taking them from Madeline’s hand.
“Something that will make you look and feel deathly sick. Once Operations replaces you in the scenario, and leaves, I’ll bring you the antidote.”
“Poison?”
“A mild poison. Not fatal, if that’s what you are worried about.” She handed Nikita a glass of water. Nikita obediently swallowed the tablets.
“How long does it take to work---ohgod!” Nikita doubled over and fell against the couch.
Madeline let out a long sigh, “Not long.” She called down to medlab for an emergency team.
“Damn it! What do you mean possible appendicitis?” Operations shouted.
“They don’t know for sure yet, but she’s not going to be able to go on the mission.” Madeline’s brown eyes were calm before Operation’s storm of anger.
“Well, we just change the scenario. Thank God for redundancies. This won’t delay us for more than an hour.” He stormed out of medlab and back to his office.
“Is that the antidote, I hope?” Nikita watched Madeline insert a needle into her IV bag.
“You should feel better in the matter of minutes.”
“Next time, could you find something a little less painful?” Nikita bit her lower lip and rolled her head to one side.
Madeline ignored the comment. “I want you to take Birkoff with you and set up surveillance on the General’s hotel in a nearby room. Operations is going to use the heart attack strategy. His food will be drugged--you know the drill.
“Ahhhh, that feels better!” Nikita sighed as the pain finally faded.
“Operations thinks this mission will be simple, which always worries me. He’s breaking his own rule in his eagerness to get that POW information.
“What rule is that?” Nikita asked, sitting up and swinging her long legs over the side of the bed.
“The easy way, is always mined.”
* * *
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